de 3317dmitridmitrievichshostakovich completeromancesandsongs,volume5 famousvocalcycles...

DE 3317

Dmitri Dmitrievich ShostakovichComplete Romances and Songs, Volume 5Famous vocal cycles

From Jewish Folk Poetry, a vocal cycle. Op. 79 (1948)

1. Lament For A Dead Baby (Russian version by T. Spendiarova) (2:53)2. Caring For Mum And Auntie (Russian version by A. Globa) (1:57)3. Lullaby (Russian version by V. Zvyagintseva) (3:52)4. Before A Long Separation (Russian version by A. Globa) (2:55)5. Warning (Russian version by N. Ushakov) (1:08)6. Father Abandoned (Russian version by S. Mar) (2:06)7. Poverty Song (words by B. Shafir, Russian version by B. Semionov) (1:30)8. Winter (Russian version by B. Semionov) (2:51)9. Good Life (Russian version by S. Olender) (1:39)10. A Girl’s Song (Russian version by S. Olender) (2:31)11. Happiness (Russian version by L. Dligach) (1:39)

Suite to Words by Michelangelo Buonarroti, Op. 145 (1974)Russian version by A. Efros

12. Truth (4:19)13. Morning (2:48)14. Love (4:10)15. Separation (2:06)16. Wrath (1:36)17. Dante (3:31)18. To The Exiled (4:13)19. Artistry (2:58)20. Night (3:55)21. Death (4:45)22. Eternity (3:47)

Total Playing Time: 63:09

Svetlana Sumatchova, soprano (1, 2, 4, 5, 8, 10, 11)Marianna Tarassova, mezzo-soprano (1, 2, 3, 6, 8, 11)Konstantin Pluzhnikov, tenor (4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11)Fyodor Kuznetsov, bass (12 – 22)Yuri Serov, piano

0 N 2005 Delos Productions, Inc.,P.O. Box 343, Sonoma, California 95476-9998(800) 364-0645 • (707) 996-3844 • Fax (707) 932-0600Made in USA• www.delosmusic.com

Recorded: St. Catherine Lutheran Church, St. Petersburg, March 19 & 20, 1995(1–11), February 26 & 27, 2003 (12–22)Sound recording & supervision: Ilia Petrov (1–11), Viktor Dinov (12–22)Editing: Victor Dinov & Yuri SerovText: Yuri SerovEnglish translation: Sergey SuslovRussian transliteration: Lev HrolCreative Direction: Harry Pack, Tri-Arts and AssociatesGraphics: Mark Evans

pictured clockwise:

Svetlana Sumatchova, soprano

Marianna Tarassova, mezzo-soprano

Konstantin Pluzhnikov, tenor

Fyodor Kuznetsov, bass

Yuri Serov, piano

A R T I S T SF E A T U R E DO N T H I SR E C O R D I N G

Shostakovich first noticed the collection of poems JewishFolk Songs in a kiosk at the railway station of Komarovo,forty kilometres away from Leningrad. The family wasspending the summer there. He bought the book just tokill time in the suburban train, but was fascinated, sogreatly that after nearly three months of intense labor heproduced From Jewish Folk Poetry, a vocal cycle for so-prano, tenor, and contralto.Of all the texts contained in the collection,

Shostakovich selected eleven, mostly lyrical. They werepoems of love and parting, need and modest happiness,of hungry children and their suffering parents. The com-poser did not use the genuine folk intonations of Jewishmusic, but he did introduce elements of ethnic musicallanguage as organic components of his own musical sys-tem. Unhurried dance rhythms, “piercing” melodic into-nations, and an abundance of various speechexclamations present an amazingly picturesque, nearlyvisible image of a small Jewish town, one of many in oldRussia, with all its funny and pathetic inhabitants.Shostakovich was satisfied with his work. In a letter

to a friend he quoted the famous Chekhov’s “We will seea sky of diamonds yet.” The premiere of the cycle had towait until seven years later, 1955 in Leningrad, and itwas the composer himself who performed the piano

part. “We rehearsed in the home of Shostakovich. Hewas unsettled and nervous, and seemed to be living inanother dimension… Love, fear, and admiration waswhat we felt. The success of the premiere was tremen-dous,” recollected singer Zara Dolukhanova, one of theperformers, years later.Suite to Words by Michelangelo Buonarroti was writ-ten by the composer in 1974, one year before his death.Riding the wave of interest in the sculptor’s heritagearoused by his 500th anniversary, Shostakovich ad-dressed the sonnets of Michelangelo, finding in his po-etry motifs surprisingly consonant with himself.Moreover, in this opus his approach to the selection ofpoems seems more utterly personal than anywhere else.It looks as though nothing has changed in the world inthe last five hundred years. Just as before, “heaven is in-different to earthly merits,” and as before, “the fiercepopulace don’t need works of mine Art”; just as before, “‘Tis sweet to sleep, e’en sweeter to be a stone, / When‘round me there is shame and crime alone. / There’ssome relief in it when you can’t feel, nor see...”Another feature of the Suite is the sincerity of expres-

sions of love, which is not generally typical of reservedand shy Shostakovich. It was only in his early composi-tion Six Poems by Japanese Poets that the composer per-

NOTES ON THE PROGRAM

Boston, c. 1900

mitted himself to be so sensuous. The exclamation end-ing the second part, “O how much is here for my handsto do,” or the passionate plea in Love, “Dare I, my treas-ure, / Exist without you, in lasting tortures, / If you aredeaf to pleas to mollify the separation? / I do not keep inmy sad heart any more / Outcries, nor sighs, nor sobs. /What can I show you, Madonna? Yoke of suffering? / Ormy death which is now so nigh?” All these are echoes ofa great inner trepidation in which poetry of the greatsufferer of the Renaissance fused with music of anothersufferer of another time in the delightful emotion oflove, which is so representative for any epoch or systemof government.The scenario of the cycle presents a clear and orderly

plan. Truth as introduction, followed by the three partsMorning, Love and Separation as meditations on privatehappiness in all its most elevated manifestations. Afterthem,Wrath, Dante, and To the Exiled, three episodes ad-dressing the personality of an artist, about a creator “for-ever revenged by meanness.” Thoughts on the essenceof creativity follow in Artistry and Night. Finally, Deathand Eternity provide the epilogue. Having passed all

that was predestined, the circle of life closes, which isalso verified by a common musical theme pattern firmlyjoining the Suite into a fresco of a symphonic scale.In the final part, Eternity, some new, never-explored

worlds appear. Transcendental trumpets that blew with acold gravity in the preceding piece give way to a child-ish-naive song. The Macrocosm sounding in the tiny bellsof the piano’s higher octaves opens towards future gener-ations. As did he himself in the Finale of his FifteenthSymphony, or as did Beethoven in his last quartets, thecomposer parts with all that is earthly. It seems that thecreator knows something that cannot be perceived bythose now living. Having told his version of the eternalstory of life, creation, love, and death, Shostakovich prob-ably had never been so close to eternity, to his own im-mortality, as in this amazing composition:

I seem to be dead, but, to soothe the world,I live as a thousand souls in the heartsOf all those who love; therefore, I am no dust,And am not subject to deathly decay.

Yuri Serov

VOCAL TEXTS

Iz jevrejskoj narodnoj poezii

1. Plach ab umershem mladentseSontse i dozhdik, sijanje i mgla.Tuman apustils’a, pamerkla luna.Kago radila ana?Mal’chika, mal’chika.Kak nazvali? –Mojshele, Mojshele.A v chom kachali Mojshele? –V l’ulke.A chem karmili? –Hlebom da lukom.A gde skharanili? –V magile.Oj, mal’chik v magile, v magile Mojshele, v mag-ile. Oj!

2. Zabotlivyje mama i t’ot’aBaj, baj, baj, V selo, tatun’a. pojezzhaj!Privezi nam jablachko, chtob ne bolet’glazochkam! Baj...

Baj, baj, baj, V selo, tatun’a. pojezzhaj!Privezi nam kurochku, chtob ne bolet’zubochkam! Baj...

Baj, baj, baj, V selo, tatun’a. pojezzhaj!Privezi namutochku, chtob ne bolet’ grudochke! Baj...

Baj, baj, baj, V selo, tatun’a. pojezzhaj!Privezi nam gusochku, chtob ne bolet’ pu-zochku! Baj...

Baj, baj, baj, V selo, tatun’a. pojezzhaj!Privezi nam semechek, chtob ne bolet’temechku! Baj...

Baj, baj, baj, V selo, tatun’a. pojezzhaj!Privezi nam zajchika, chtob ne bolet’ palchikam!Baj... Baj...

From Jewish Folk Poetry

1. Lament For A Dead BabyIt’s sun and rain, it’s bright and dark.Fog has come down, the moon is blurred.‘Who was born?’‘A boy, a boy.’‘What was his name?’‘Moyshele, Moyshele.’‘Where did they rock him?’‘In a cradle.’‘How did they feed him?’‘With bread and onions.’‘Where did they bury him?’‘In a grave.’‘Oy, the boy’s in the grave, in the grave isMoyshele, inthe grave. Oy!’

2. Caring For Mum And AuntieBye, bye, bye! Go to the village Tateh!Bring us an apple to heal the little eyes! Bye...

Bye, bye, bye! Go to the village Tateh!Bring us a chicken to heal the little teeth! Bye...

Bye, bye, bye! Go to the village Tateh!Bring us a duck to heal the little chest! Bye...

Bye, bye, bye! Go to the village Tateh!Bring us a goose to heal the little tummy!

Bye, bye, bye! Go to the village Tateh!Bring us sunflower seeds to heal the little pate!Bye...

Bye, bye, bye! Go to the village Tateh!Bring us a rabbit to heal the little fingers! Bye...

3. Kalybel’najaMoj synok vseh krashe v mire –agan’ok vo t’me.Tvoj atets v tsep’ah v Sibiri,derzhit tsar’ jego v t’ur’me. Spi, l’u-l’u, l’u-l’u.

Kalybel’ tvaju kachaja,mama sl’osy ljot.Sam pojm’osh ty, padrastaja,chto jej sertse zhzhot.

Tvoj atets v Sibiri dal’nej,ja nuzhdu terpl’u.Spi pakuda bespechalno,a, l’u-l’u, l’u-l’u...

Skorb’ moja chernee nochi,spi, a ja ne spl’u.Spi, haroshij, spi, synochek,spi, l’u-l’u, l’u-l’u...

4. Pered dolgoj razlukoj- Oj, Abram, kak bez teb’a mne zhit’!Ja bez teb’a, ty bez men’a - kak nam v razlukezhit’?- A pomnish, v vorotah so mnoj stojala -chto po sekretu ty mne skazala?Oj, Oj, Rivochka, daj tvoj rotik, devochka!

- Oj, Abram, kak nam zhit’ teper’?Ja bez teb’a, ty bez men’a - Oj, kak bez ruchkidver’!- A pomnish, gul’ali s taboj my v pare -chto mne skazala ty na bulvare?Oj, Oj, Rivochka, daj tvoj rotik, devochka!

- Oj, Abram, kak bez teb’a mne zhit’!Ja bez teb’a, ty bez men’a kak nam bez shchastjazhit’?

3. LullabyMy sonny is the best in the world —The light in the darkness.Your father is in Siberia, chained,the Tsar keeps him in prison there. Sleep tight,lu-lu, lu-lu.

Rocking your cradle,Mummy sheds tears.Growing up, you’ll understandHow her heart aches.

Your father is in far Siberia,I’m here in need.Meanwhile, sleep sweetly,Ah lu-lu, lu-lu.

My sorrow is blacker than night,Sleep while I’m awake.Sleep my darling, sleep my sonny,Ah lu-lu, lu-lu.

4. Before A Long SeparationOy Abram, how can I go on without you?Me without you, you without me - how will we goon separated?‘Do you remember us standing in the gate,And the secret you told me?Oy oy, Rivochka, let me kiss your mouth!’

Oy Abram, how can we go on?Me without you, you without me— like a doorwithout a handle!‘Do you remember us strolling as a couple?What did you tell me then on the boulevard?Oy oy, Rivochka, let me kiss your mouth!’

Oy Abram, how can I go on without you?Me without you, you without me — how will wego on

without happiness?

Ty pomnish, ja krasuju jubku nasila?Oj, kak tagda ja byla krasiva!-Oj, Oj, Rivochka, daj tvoj rotik, devochka!

5. PredosterezhenieSlushaj, Has’a!Nel’z’a gul’at’, ne smej gul’at’,s l’ubym gul’at’ opasajs’a, opasajs’a, opasajs’a!Pajd’osh gul’at’, do utra gul’at’,oj, patom naplacheshs’a,Has’a! Slushaj! Has’a!

6. Broshennyj otets- Ele, starjovshik, nadel halat.K pristavu dochka ushla, gavar’at.- Tsirele, dochka, vernis’ k atsu.dam tebe platjev nar’adnyh k ventsu.Ser’gi i koltsa kupl’u tebe sam,i na pridachu krasavchika, krasavchika dam.Tsirele, dochka!

- Ne nado mne nar’adav, ne nado mne kalets,lish s gapadinom pristavom pajdu ja pod venets.Gaspadin pristav, prashu vas, skorejeganite v sheju starovo jevreja.

- Tsirele, dochka, vernis’ ko mne, vernis’…Tsirele, dochka!

7. Pesn’a o nuzhdeKrysha spit na cherdakepod salomoj sladkim snom.V kalybel’ke spit dit’abez pel’onok, nagishom.

Gop, gop, vyshe, vyshe!Jest kaza salomu s kryshi.Gop, gop, vyshe, vyshe!Jest kaza salomu s kryshi, oj!

Kalybel’ na cherdake,pauchok v nej tk’ot bedu.Radast’ on moju sas’ot,mne ostaviv lish nuzhdy.

Do you remember me wearing that red skirt?Oy, I was so beautiful those days!‘Oy oy, Rivochka, let me kiss your mouth!’

5. WarningListen Hassia!You may not date, you should not date,Beware dating any man!Strolling with men until the dawnMeans bitter tears afterwards, Hassia!Listen! Hassia!

6. Father AbandonedEhle the ragpicker has put on his gown.They say his daughter went away to live with PoliceCommissioner.‘Tsirele my daughter, come back to your father.I will give you a dowry of fancy dresses,I myself will buy you earrings and necklaces —And find you a nice handsome boy to marry!Tsirele my daughter!’

‘I need none of your dresses or rings,And I will marry nobody but Commissioner.Please Commissioner, tell this old JewTo get out of here — quickly!’

‘Tsirele my daughter! Come, come back to me!Tsirele my daughter!’

7. Poverty SongThe roof is sleeping tightUp there, under its straw.The baby is sleeping in its cradleNaked, without diapers.

Hop, hop, up, up!The goat is eating straw from the roof.Hop, hop, up, up!The goat is eating straw from the roof, oy!

The cradle is in the attic,A little spider is webbing my bad luck in it.It is sucking my joyLeaving me nothing but want.


Petushok na cherdake,jarko-krasnyj grebeshok.Oj, zhena, zaimi dl’a detokhleba chornogo kusok.


8. ZimaLezhit moja Shejndl v kravati,i s neju reb’onok balnoj.Ni sjchepki v netoplenoj hate,a veter gudit za stenoj.

Vernulis’ i stuzha i veter,net sily terpet’ i molchat’.Krichite zhe, plachte zhe, deti,zima varatilas’ op’at’.

9. Haroshaja zhizn’A pole prastornom, druzja daragije,pesen ne pel ja v gody gluhije.Ne dl’a men’a pal’a rastsvetali,ne dl’a men’a rasinki stekali.V tesnom padvale va t’me syrojzhil ja kagda-to, izmuchen nuzhdoj.I grusnaja pesn’a neslas’ iz padvalao gore, o muke majej nebyvaloj.Kalhoznaja rechka, struis’ veselee;druzjam peredaj moj paklon paskoree.Skazhi, chto v kalhoze teper’ moj dom,tsvetushchee derevo stait pod oknom.Teper’ dl’a men’a pal’a rastsvetajut,men’a malakom i m’odom pitajut.Ja shchastliv, a ty rasskazhi majim brtjam:kalhoznym pal’am budu pes’ni slagat’ ja!


There’s a rooster in the atticWith a scarlet crest.Hey wife, go borrow a sliceOf stale bread for our children.


8. WinterMy Sheindl is in bedAnd our sick child is with her.Not a chip of wood in our hut,And the wind is roaring outside.

The cold and the wind are back,They cannot be endured in silence.So cry children, weep children!Winter is back again.

9. Good LifeDear friends, I never sang songsAbout wide open fields in those dark days.Fields blossomed, but not for me,Dew sparkled, but not for me.Years ago, I lived in a basement,In damp darkness, tormented by poverty.And sad songs of my misery and tormentsWere heard from that basement.You merry collective farm river, run cheerfully,Give my greetings to my friends.Tell them my home is in a collective farm now,And a blossoming tree is near my window.Now, fields are ripening for me,They feed me with milk and honey.I am happy, so tell my brothersThat I will make songs to the collective fields!

10. Pesn’a devushkiNa luzhajke, vozle lesa,chto zadumchiv tak vsegda,my pas’om s utra do nochikalhoznyje stada.

I sizhu ja na prigorke,s dudochkoj sizhu svajej.Ne magu ja nagl’adetsana krasu strany majej.

V jarkoj zeleni derevjai krasivy i strajny,a v pal’ah zvetut kalosja,prelesti palny!

Oj, l’u! Oj, l’u-l’u, l’u-l’u, l’u-l’u!

To mne vetka ulybn’otsa,kalasok vdrug padmign’ot,-chustvo radosti velikojv sertse iskraju sverkn’ot.

Poj zhe, dudochka prastaja!Tak lehko nam pet’ vdvajom!Slyshat gory i daliny,kak my radasno pajom.

Tol’ko, dudochka, ne plakat’!Poshluju zabud’ pechal’.I puskaj tvai napevymchatsa v laskovuju dal’.

Oj, l’u! Oj, l’u-l’u, l’u-l’u, l’u-l’u!

Ja v svajom kalhoze shchasliva.Slyshish, zhisn’ maja palna!Veseleje, veseleje,dudochka ty pet’ dolzhna!

11. Shchast’jeJa muzha smelo pod ruku vz’ala,pust’ ja stara, i star moj kavaler.Jego s saboj v teatr pavela,i vz’ali lva bileta my v parter.

Do poznej nochi s muzhem sid’a tam,

10. A Girl’s SongOn the meadow by the forestWhich is always so thoughtful,We graze the collective farm cattleFrom morning till night.

So I’m sitting on a hillsideWith my little pipe.I cannot help rejoicingIn my country’s beauty.

The trees are in bright green,They are graceful and stately,And the crops in the fieldsAre full of charm.

Oy lu! Oy lu-lu, lu-lu, lu-lu!

A tree branch smiles at me,A wheat spike winks at me.A great joy flashes in my heartLike a bright sparkle.

Sing now, my artless pipe!It’s so easy for us to sing together!Hills and valleys can hearOur merry song.

But let’s never weep, my pipe!Forget the sorrow of old.Let your tunes fly far,Over these cheerful vistas.

Oy lu! Oy lu-lu, lu-lu, lu-lu!

I am happy in my collective village.I say, my life is ample!My pipe, you must singMerrier and merrier!

11. HappinessI bravely took my husband’s arm,Though I am old, just as my man is.I took him out to the theatre,We bought two seats in the stalls.

Sitting there until late at night,

vs’o predavalis’ radasnym mechtam,-Kakimi blagami okruzhenajevrejskago sapozhnika zhena.

I vsej strane hachu pavedat’ japro radasnyj i svetlyj zhrebij moj:vrachami, vrachami stali nashi synavja -zvezda garit nad nashej galavoj!

Vrachami, vrachami stali nashi synavja -zvezda garit nad nashej galavoj! Oj!

Suita na slova Mikelandgello Buanarroti

12. IstinaJest’ istiny v rechenjah stariny,I vot ona: kto mozhet, tot ne hochet.Ty vn’al, gospod’, tomu, kto lozh strekochet,I boltuny toboj nagrazhdeny;

Ja zh tvoj sluga: moi trudy dany tebe,Kak solntsu luch, - hot’ i prorochit tvoj gnevVs’o to, chto pyl moj sdelat’ prochit,I vs’o moi staranja ne nuzhny.

Ja dumal, chto vozm’ot tvojo velichjeMen’a k sebe ne ehom dl’a palat,A lezviem suda i girej gneva.

No jest’ k zemnym zaslugam bezrazlichjeNa nebesah - i zhdat’ ot nih nagrad, -Chto ozhidat’ plodov s suhogo dreva.

13. UtroNet radostej ves’ologo zan’atja:Po zlatu kos, tsvetam naperebojSoprikasats’a s miloj golovojI l’nut’ lobzanjem vs’udu bez izjatja!

I skolko naslazhdenija dl’a platjaSzhimat’ jej stan i nispadat’ volnoj;I kak otradno setke zolotojJejo lanity zakl’uchat’ v objatja!

Jescho nezhnej nar’adnoj lenty v’az’,Blest’a uzornoj vyshivkoj svoeju,

We were enjoying mirthful dreams:Such a luxury allowedTo a Jewish shoemaker’s wife.

And I wish to tell everyone in this countryAbout my joyful and bright fortune:Our sons have become doctors, doctors,And the star is shining above our heads!

Our sons have become doctors, doctors,And the star is shining above our heads! Oy!

Suite to Words by Michelangelo Buonarroti

12. TruthThere are truths in sayings of old days,Like this: he who can, never wants to.Lord, Thou hast perceived Lie’s babbling,And hast given the babblers what they deserve.

As for me, I am Thy servant; my labor’s Thine,Like beams are the sun’s — though Thy wrathforetellsAll that my ardor longs to achieve,And all my efforts are therefore needless.

Methought Thy greatness would have meNot as an echo for chambers,But as a cutting edge of justice and weight of wrath.

But Heaven is indifferent to earthly meritsAnd it is as fruitless to expect its award,As to expect fruit from a barren tree.

13. MorningThere is nothing so joyful as the merry pastimeFor flowers to touch that lovely head,The gold of her plaits,And kiss every spot of her without exception!

It’s such a delight for her dressTo hug her torso and extend down in a wave;It’s such a pleasure for the golden netTo embrace her visage!

Even more tenderly, the weaving of that fancy band,Gleaming with its embroidered pattern,

Smykajets’a vkrug persej molodyh.

A chistyj pojas, laskovo vijas’,Kak budto shepchet: «Ne rasstanus’ s neju…»O, skolko dela zdes’ dl’a ruk moih.

14. L’ubov’- Skazhi, L’ubov’, voistinu li vzoruZhelannaja predstala krasota,Il’ to moja tvor’aschaja mechtaSluchajnyj lik sebe vz’ala v oporu?

Tebe l’ ne znat’? Ved’ s nim po ugovoruTy sna men’a lishila. Pust’!Usta lelejut kazhdyj vzdoh,I zalita dusha ogn’om, ne znajuschim otporu.

- Ty istinnuju vidish krasotu,No blesk jejo gorit, vs’o razrastajas’,Kogda skvoz’ vzor k dushe voskhodit on;

Tam obretaja bozhju chistotu,Bessmaertnomu tvortsu upodobl’ajas’, -Vot pochemu tvoj vzgl’ad zavorozhon.

15. RazlukaDerznu l’, sokrovische mojo,Suschestvovat’ bez vas, seb’e na muku,Raz gluhi vy k mol’bam sm’agchit’ razluku?Unylym serdtsem bolshe ne tajuNi vozglasov, ni vzdohov, ni rydanij.Chto vam javit’, madonna, gn’ot stradanijI smert’ uzh nedal’okuju moju;No daby rok potom mojo sluzhenjeIzgnat’ iz vashej pam’ati ne mog, -Ja ostavl’aju serdtse vam v zalog.

16. GnevZdes’ delajut iz chash mechi I shlemyI krov’ Hristovu prodajut na ves;Na schit zdes’ t’orn, na kopja krest ischez,-Usta zh Hristovy terpelivo nemy.

Pust’ on niskhodit v nashi VifleemyIl’ snova bryznet krovju do nebes,Zatem, chto dushegubam Rim - chto les,

Closes around the young breasts.

And the clean sash, gently meandering,Seems to be whispering, “I’ll never part with her…”O how much is here for my hands to do.

14. LoveSay, Love, is it true that my eyesReally see the desired beauty,Or it is just my creative daydreamThat has chosen some chance looks as its support?

You should know! It was you who, in a plot withthose looks,Has deprived me of my sleep. Let it be!My lips cherish each sigh,And my soul is overflown with irresistible fire.

“You do see real beauty,But its shine is burning, growing and growing,When it is ascending to your soul through your sight,

There to acquire divine purity,And likeness of its Eternal Creator —This is why your eyesight is enchanted.

15. SeparationDare I, my treasure,Exist without you, in lasting tortures,If you are deaf to pleas to mollify the separation?I do not keep in my sad heart any moreOutcries, nor sighs, nor sobs.What can I show you, Madonna? Yoke of suffering?Or my death which is now so nigh?But, to prevent Fate from expelling laterMy loyal vassalage out of your memory —I am leaving you my heart as a pledge.

16. WrathHere they make swords and helmets out of chalices,They sell Christ’s blood by the ounce;Thorn used for shields, and Holy Cross, for lances;Still the lips of Christ are sealed with patient silence.

Let Him descend to our Bethlehems,Or spill His blood again so that it would reachheaven;

I miloserdje derzhim na zamke my.

Mne ne groz’at roskoshestva obuzy,Ved’ dl’a men’a davno uzh net zdes’ del;Ja mantii strashus’, kak Mavr - Meduzy;

No jesli bednost’ slavoj Bog odel,kakie zh nam togda gotovit uzyPod znamenem inym inoj udel?

17. DanteSpustivshis’ s neba, v tlennoj ploti, onUvidel ad, obitel’ iskuplenja,I zhiv predstal dl’a bozhja litsezrenja,I nam povedal vs’o, chem umudr’on.

Luchistaja zvezda, chjim ozar’onSijanjem kraj, mne dannyj dl’a rozhdenja, -Jejo ne ot mira zhdat’ voznagrazhdenja,No ot teb’a, kem mir byl sotvor’on.

Ja govor’u o Dante, o Dante: ne nuzhnyOzloblennoj tolpe jego sozdanja, -Ved’ dl’a nejo i vysshyj genij mal.

Bud’ ja kak on! O, bud’ mne suzhdenyJego dela I skorb’ jego izgnanja, -Ja b luchshej doli v mire ne zhelal!

18. IzgnannikuKak budto chtim, a vs’o zhe chest’ mala.Jego velichje vzor nash oslepilo.Chto chern’ korit za nizkoje merilo.Kogda pusta i nasha pohvala!

On radi nas soshol v obitel’ zla;Gospodne tsarstvo lik jemu javilo;No dver’, chto dazhe nebo ne zakrylo,Pred Dante otchizna zlobno zaperla.

Neblagodarnaja! Sebe na goreTy dlila muki syna svoego;Tak sovershenstvu nizost’ mstit ot veka.

Odin primer iz the, kotoryh more!Kak net podlej izgnanija jego,

Because those butchers see Rome as a wild forest,And we keep Mercy behind a locked door.

I see no threat from luxury’s encumbrance,I’ve long had nothing here for me to do;I fear rich apparels like Moor fears Medusa;

But if God has dressed poverty in glory,What is that bondage that awaits usBy other lot, and under other colors?

17. DanteDescending from heaven, in human flesh, he sawHell, that place of redemption,And appeared alive to be contemplated by God,And disclosed to us all the wisdom he had gained.

The beaming star, whose radiation lightsThe land I was destined to be born in —He is not to expect a reward from the world,But from Thou who created the whole universe.

I am speaking of Dante now;The fierce populace don’t need works of his Art,For they hold small even a superior genius.

If I were like him! Oh, if I were destinedFor his deeds and the sorrow of his exile,I would never have wished a better lot!

18. To the ExiledHe seems to be honored, but small honor it is.His greatness has blinded our sight.Should we blame commoners for their low gauge,When our praise is trivial too!

For our sake he descended to the den of evil,And God’s kingdom was displayed to him;But, while heaven opened him its door,Homeland viciously locked the door on him.

The ungrateful one! For thine own ruinThou lasted tortures of thy son;Thus perfection is forever revenged by meanness.

‘Tis one example out of a legion!Never has an exile been more villainous,

Tak mir ne znal i vyshe cheloveka.

19. TvorchestvoKogda skalu moj zhostkij molotokV oblichija l’udej preobrazhaet, -Bez mastera, kotoryj napravl’aetJego udar, on delu b ne pomog.

No bozhij molot iz seb’a izvl’okRazmah, chto miru prelest’ soobschaet;Vse moloty tot molot predveschaet,I v n’om odnom im vsem zhivoj urok.

Chem vyshe vzmah ruki nad nakoval’nej,Tem t’azhelej udar: tak zanes’onI nado mnoj on k vys’am podnebesnym;

Mne glyboju kosnet’ pervonachal’noj,Poka kuznets gospoden, — tol’ko on! —Ne posobit udarom polnovesnym.

20. NochVot eta noch, chto tak spokojno spitPered toboju, - angela sozdanje.Ona iz kamn’a, no v nej jest’ dyhanje:Lish razbudi, - ona zagovorit.

Mne sladko spat’, a pusche kamnem byt’,Kogda krugom pozor i prestuplenje:Ne chuvstvovat’, ne videt’ - oblegchenje,Umolkni zh, drug, k chemu men’a budit’?

Never has the world seen a better man.

19. ArtistryWhen my hard hammer transforms a rockInto images of human beings,It would never do the workIf not for the master who aims the hit.

But God’s hammer has produced an impactThat conveys grace to the world;That hammer is the forerunner of all hammers,And is a live model for them all.

The higher is the hand’s stroke o’er the anvil.The harder is the blow; so I, too,See it raised o’ver me in the utmost heaven.

I will stay idle like a primeval boulder,Until the Lord’s hammersmith— and he alone!—Assists me with an ample masterstroke.

20. NightThis night here, that is sleeping so peacefullyBefore you, is a creation of an angel.And though she’s made of stone, she can breatheAnd will speak as soon as she’s awakened.

‘Tis sweet to sleep, e’en sweeter to be a stone,When ‘round me there is shame and crime alone.There’s some relief in it when you can’t feel, nor see,So pray be silent, friend, yea, why awaken me?

21. Smert’Uzh chuja smert’, hot’ i ne znaja sroka,Ja vizhu: zhizn’ vs’o ubystr’aet shag.No telu jescho zhalko plotskih blag,Dushe zhe smert’ zhelannee poroka.

Mir v slepote: postydnogo urokaIz vlasti zla ne izvlekaet zrak,Nadezhdy net, i vs’o objemlet mrak.I lozh tsarit, i pravda pr’achet oko,

Kogda zh, gospod’, nastupit to,Chego zhdut vernye tebe? OslabevaetV otsrochkah vera, dushu davit gn’ot;

Na chto nam svet spasenja tvoego,Raz smert’ bystrej i navsegda javl’aetNas v sramote, v kotoroj zastajot?

22. BessmertieZdes’ rok poslal bezvremennyj mne son,No ja ne m’ortv, hot’ i opuschen v zeml’u:Ja zhiv v tebe, chjim setovanjam vneml’u,Zatem, chto v druge drug otobrazhon.

Ja slovno b m’ortv, no miru v uteshenjeJa tys’achami dush zhivu v serdtsahVseh l’ub’aschih, i, znachit, ja ne prah,I smertnoe men’a ne tronet tlen’e.

21. DeathFeeling my death e’en now, if not its date and time,I see my life is speeding up its pace.And still, my body aches for fleshly joy,While the soul of mine prefers death to vice.

The world is blind, and eyes perceive no message,A shameful one, from the evil’s rule;There is no hope, and darkness covers all,And Lie prevails, Truth casting down its look.

Now when, O Lord, will it at last come forth —What is longed for by those loyal? In delaysFaith withers up, and the soul’s oppressed;

Why should we need the light of Thy salvation,When death does render us much faster, and forever,Among the filth he finds when he comes by?

22. EternitySo Fate has granted me untimely sleep,But I’m not dead, though buried in a grave;I’m still alive in thee, whose laments I can hear,Because true friends reflect each other’s image.

I seem to be dead, but, to soothe the world,I live as a thousand souls in the heartsOf all those who love; therefore, I am no dust,And am not subject to deathly decay.

Soprano Svetlana Sumatchova began her music education inGnesin College in Moscow as a violinist. In 1984–91 she studiedvoice at the St. Petersburg Rimsky-Korsakov Conservatory (Profs.L. Lavrova and K. Isotova). She won second prize at the Interna-tional Schumann competition in Germany. Since 1993 she has beena soloist of the Moscow Stanislavsky & Nemirovich-DanchenkoMusic Theatre. Her repertoire includes Ludmila (Glinka’s Ruslanand Lyudmila), Rosina by Rossini and more. She began her concertcareer during her student years. Her concert repertoire is largeand various — from baroque music to contemporary authors —and includes all genres of vocal music: opera and oratorio arias,romances and songs. She has toured in Russia, Germany, Finland,Norway, Switzerland Italy and Belgium.Svetlana Sumatchova has recorded several programs for TV

and Radio in Russia and Belgium as well as CDs.

SopranoMarianna Tarassova graduated from St. Petersburg Rim-sky-Korsakov Conservatory (prof. E. Gorokhovskaya) in 1993. Shewon first prizes at international competitions in Czechoslovakia,Italy and Germany (Munich). She studied Russian music withGalina Vishnevskaya in London. Her first appearance on an operastage was in Pittsburgh as Dorabella in Cosi fan tutte. In 1993Mrs.Tarassova made her debut at the Mariinsky Theatre asLyubava (Rimsky-Korsakov’s Sadko) and joined the troupe. 2004brought her debut in Monte Carlo in the part of Olga (Eugene One-gin). She has sung Lyubasha (Tsar’s Bride) and Lyubava (Sadko byRimsky-Korsakov), Dido, Carmen, Agalgisa, Cherubino, Marta(Khovanshchina), Olga (Eugene Onegin), among others. She hastoured in Italy, France, Belgium, Germany, Holland, England andUSAwith chamber programs and as an opera soloist. She hasrecorded for BBC the vocal cycles of Dmitri Shostakovich as wellas other CDs.

Tenor Konstantin Pluzhnikov graduated from the St. PetersburgRimsky-Korsakov Conservatory (prof.E. Olkhovsky) in 1969. He isa prize winner of international competitions. Since 1971 he has

been a soloist of the Kirov (now Mariinsky) Theatre. His extremelylarge repertoire includes many leading tenor parts and nearly allthe Russian romances and songs. Mr. Pluzhnikov concertizeswidely in Russia and abroad (most European countries, USA andJapan). He has participated in performances of Bach’s Passions,both Mozart and Verdi Requiems, and several other major works.He has recorded a series entitled “The Anthology of the RussianRomance” (Alyabiev, Gurilev, Varlamov, Dargomyzhsky, Taneyev,Glasounov, Grechaninov, Mettner, Ippolitov-Ivanov, Kalinnikovetc.). He played the leading parts in the TV versions of the operasKaschei The Immortal (Rimsky-Korsakov), L’Heure espagnole (Ravel),Don Pasquale and Rita (Donizetti). Mr. Pluzhnikov is the author ofthe work “The Forgotten Pages of the Russian Romance.” He is aprofessor at the St. Petersburg Conservatory and People’s Artist ofRussia.

Bass Fyodor Kuznetsov, a native of Sverdlovsk, graduated fromthe Music Conservatory in Nizhny-Novgorod (formerly Gorky)and joined St. Petersburg’s Mussorgsky Opera in 1987. Roles per-formed in that house include Boris/Pimen (Boris Godunov), Dosifei(Khovanschina), King Rene (Iolanta), Gremin (Eugene Onegin),Philip/Grand Inquisitor (Don Carlo), Colline (La Boheme), as wellas the title parts of Rimsky-Korsakov’s The Tale of Tsar Saltan andPetrov’s Peter the Great. (For his performance in the latter work, hewon the 1994 St. Petersburg Laureate Prize.) As a member of theMussorgsky company he was lauded in France, Italy, Japan,Greece, Germany and the United States.A principal singer of the Mariinsky Theatre/Kirov Opera since

1996, he has performed there as Varlaam (Boris Godunov), Farlaf(Ruslan and Lyudmila), Ivan Grozny (Pskovitianka), The King (Aida),Il Grande Inquisitore (Don Carlo), Don Basilio (Il Barbiere diSiviglia), Klingsor (Parsifal), Hunding (Die Walküre), and Mendoza(Betrothal in a Monastery). He debuted at the Salzburg Festival asVarlaam (Boris Godunov) in 1997, at the San Francisco Opera Houseas Augustin (Betrothal in a Monastery) 1998, and in Santiago Munic-ipal Theatre as Klingsor and Titurel (Parsifal) in 1999.

A R T I S T B I O G R A P H I E S

Shostakovich Complete SongsVolume One •Vocal Cycles ofthe Fifties, 1950-1956 • DE 3304

Shostakovich Complete SongsVolume Two • The Last Years,1965-1974 • DE 3307

Shostakovich Complete SongsVolume Three • Early Works,1922-1942 • DE 3309

Shostakovich Complete SongsVolume Four • UnknownShostakovich - Motion Pictures,Satires Anti-Formalistic RareeShow, 1932-1968 • DE 3313

Shostakovich Complete SongsVolume Five • Famous Vocal Cy-cles, 1948-1974• DE 3317

S H O S T A K O V I C H C O M P L E T E S O N G S O N D E L O S

He has travelled with the Kirov to Germany, Italy, France, Hol-land, Spain, England, Argentina, Chile and the United States (Met-ropolitan Opera), among others. His concert repertoire includesMozart’s Requiem, Bruckner’sMissa Solemnis, Rossini’s StabatMater,Mahler’s Eighth Symphony, Beethoven’s Ninth andShostakovich’s Fourteenth symphonies. Kuznetsov can be heard onrecordings of Betrothal in a Monastery and Boris Godunov on thePhilips label.

Pianist Yuri Serov graduated from the St. Petersburg Rimsky-Kor-sakov Conservatory in 1991 and completed his postgraduate stud-ies in 1993 (with Prof. R. Lebedev, piano, Prof. T. Fidler, chamberensemble, and Prof. H. Serova, piano accompaniment). He hasalso studied with Hartmut Hoell in Salzburg and Weimar.

As a soloist, ensemblist, member of a piano duo and piano ac-companist, Yuri Serov has toured many cities in Russia, Latvia,Finland, Norway, Denmark, Germany, Belgium, Holland, France,Austria, Switzerland, Spain, Ireland, Brazil and the USA. He hasperformed with the Philharmonic Orchestras of St. Petersburg,Saratov, Samara (Russia), Odense (Denmark) and several others.He has recorded several major programs for TV and Radio in Rus-sia, Denmark, Brazil, Norway and Belgium. Serov has recordedover 50 CDs for a number of labels of Russia, Belgium, Japan andthe USA, and is the author of many articles and essays on music.At present, he teaches chamber music at the St. Petersburg Conser-vatory. Yuri Serov is Artistic Director of the Northern FlowersChamber Music Festival in St. Petersburg.

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